Time In a Bottle
by 00Fangirl
Summary: "If I had a box just for wishes, And dreams that had never come true, The box would be empty, except for the memory of how, They were answered by you" [UsUk][Human AU]
1. Week One

**Hello there, my lovely cupcakes! New story here! It should only be about maybe between 6-10 chapters long, and it's based on a story that my sister told me the other day, and i was really moved by it and i've been thinking about it for days on end. Like im down to chapter three already that's how bad i was inspired!  
I'll stop talking now and leave this to you guys!, enjoy~~~**

(Jim Croce; Time In a Bottle... title name inspiration; and the lyrics in the summary. I found the pic on google!)

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**Week One  
(September 3rd, 2014)**

The white walls, monotonous and repetitive waiting room music, and quiet conversations were beginning to drive Alfred insane. His eyes darted across the seemingly quiet waiting room while his hands clapped rhythmically on his lap. With an overly dramatic breath of air, he managed to blow his thick blond bangs from his face as he caught the attention of the few people in the room around him.

In the far corner of the room, hidden under the "shade" of a faux-palm tree and the comfort of a good book, sat a young boy, no older than ten, with bulging blue eyes and a shy smile. He giggled at Alfred's actions, but when he saw him smile back at him, he hid behind the comfort of his book. The boy would periodically peak over the edge of his book and his gaze would be met by an entertaining facial gesture.

"Alfred, please." His mother hissed, taking a seat beside her son and straightening out her skirt. She placed the thick, paper-filled, Manila folder on her lap and shifted in her seat. A wondering hand latched onto the folder and was slapped away. "Alfred."

Her tone was venomous, yet daring as her gloved hands gripped the folder tightly. "Mom." Alfred mimicked her tone and crossed his arms. "I want to see how you're doing."

"No."

The eighteen year-old huffed and slipped further into the cold, plastic chair. He stole side glances at his mom's pained expression and felt a wave of guilt take over.

Amelia Rose Jones had been diagnosed with stage three colorectal cancer in late May. It was now early September and she had started attending her chemotherapy a week before. Matthew had gone with her on the first day, but he couldn't bring himself to the cold, heartless, hospital room again, more so if he had to watch his step-mother go through pain that, in the long shot, wasn't even worth it.

So Alfred sat, body slumped down and arms crossed over his chest, sneaking worried side glances at his sick mother as she waited to be called to her chemo's. Amelia tried her hardest to keep a straight face, tried to strive on for her children, but it was just so _hard_.

The blonde woman hadn't heard her name being called from the door. She hadn't felt her legs get up. She hadn't felt her feet drag themselves toward the doorway. She definitely hadn't heard Alfred's worried cries. She was just _numb_.

Alfred stood, hands in his pocket and head hung low in sadness, at the middle of the waiting room. The lady from behind the counter begged him to take a seat and the young boy from earlier stared up sadly at him. The American let out a deep breath and made his way toward the boy, not once taking his gaze away from the floor.

When he sat down, the boy turned his body to face him and crossed his legs. He marked the page in his book and sat the book down in his lap.

"Hi!"

"Hey!" Alfred replied with an equal sense of optimism.

"I'm Peter. Peter Kirkland."

"Alfred F. Jones."

Peter cocked his head to the side and smiled, a curious glint in his blue eyes. "What does the F stand for?"

"Foster." He said without missing a beat. He then chuckled and ruffled the young boy's blond locks. "But I like to think it stands for Freedom, because why not?"

The look of pure astonishment in Peter's innocent visage caused a silly grin to overpower features. Alfred had always loved kids, even if they were only a couple of years younger than he was, and this adorable British kid proved to be no different.

The two stayed talking for a while, about books and movies and morning cartoons. Alfred even told him a few pieces of advice for the future and they briefly discussed their personal lives, both excited to find out that the other had a brother. At one point, Alfred left to go to the vending machines and came back with mounds of junk food that he lay between the two of them and allowed the kid to take whatever he desired.

"Peter!" A strong British accent called from behind Alfred. The young boy shrunk in his chair and Alfred turned around to face the owner of the voice.

He was a fairly short guy, no taller than five foot seven, with piercing green eyes. A black beanie sat on his head, hiding any traces of hair from the world, aside from his dark, bushy eyebrows. His upper body was adorned in a white t-shirt covered by a leather jacket, his hands crossed tightly over his chest. His lower body sported a pair of, rather revealing, tight black skinny jeans with Doc Martins that tapped impatiently on the marble flooring.

Alfred stood up, causing the glare on the other boy's fade, but only slightly. Who wouldn't be intimidated by a teenager who stood at a whopping six foot two?

"I'm Alfred." His smiled was kind and his hand stuck out in a friendly gesture.

Dark eyebrows furrowed and the slender boy pushed the arm back to its resting positing. He took a few steps closer, standing on the tip of his toes to get at least a _bit_ more leverage on the situation. "I don't care who you are, wanker. But you stay the bloody hell away from my younger brother." The last three words were followed by an angry poke at the chest.

Alfred blinked... Then again... And finally once more before letting an airy laugh escape his lips. He shot his hands up at his sides in surrender, but he didn't dare take a step back in fear of losing the newly acquainted, and unexplainably comforting, warmth.

"Sorry, dude. I was just waiting for my mom, and your little brother was - and still is - the only one here."

From behind them, Peter struggled to formulate a sentence that would calm down his brother's impotent rage. "Its okay, Arthur. He meant no harm. He's nice, I can assure you!"

"Arthur..." Alfred hummed. The mere mention of his name slipping the American boy's mouth caused him to relax, even if it was for a quick, unnoticed second.

Growing quite tired of standing on his toes, Arthur stood his normal height. "Alfred..." He muttered under his breath.

Throughout the course of the bland conversation, neither of the two moved an inch. Arthur stood, looking up at the man before him with his jaw clenched shut, and tried his hardest to fight back a blush. The American stood no more than two feet away from him and he could still feel his breath caressing his cheek.

Alfred smirked, an action that drove the stranger completely crazy - in more ways than one, - and stuffed his hands in the pockets of brown bomber jacket. His eyes flickered toward the, now open, door and he tousled the angry, British teen's unkempt hair. "Mom's here. Gotta go. Later, eyebrows, Pete!" The younger boy stood up on his seat and stretched his balled up fist toward Alfred. His blue eyes filled with pride as he bumped fists with the little boy. He flashed Arthur one more smile before practically skipping toward his mother. He felt his grin grow wilder when he caught one like word leave Arthur's lips.

_Git_.

. . .

Alfred hummed a happy tune from beside his younger step-brother as he dried the plates that were handed to him. Matthew had the sleeves of his red hoodie pushed up to his elbows and still somehow managed to get water and soap buds on the article of clothing. Blowing his loose curl out of his sight, the Canadian caught a glimpse of Alfred's lopsided smile.

"Someone's happy today..." His voice was barely above a whisper and usually he would have to repeat himself a few times before Alfred could hear him... but not today.

He finished drying the plate in his hands and threw the rag over his shoulder. "Hm? Oh I am? Sweet!" He smiled once more and leaned back on the island that was placed in the middle of the kitchen. "I don't know... It was a just a good day... I guess." He shrugged and took the plate that Matthew held out to him.

He nodded. "If you don't mind my asking, did something happen at school... Or?"

Alfred glared at his brother and sighed as he sat the plate down. "There's no need to be so formal, dude. We've basically been family for almost five months now, and that's only the marriage part of their relationship."

Matthew's gaze fell to the floor and his cheeks flushed a cute pink. "...sorry."

"Mattie..." Alfred whined as he playfully bumped his brother with his hip.

For being completely unrelated, the two shared an uncanny resemblance that would make anyone question if their brother-ship was only by law. There were only three major differences between the two. One, instead of having blue eyes, Matthew had captivating and unique violet eyes that shone with kindness. Two, Matthew was three inches shorter than his brother. And three, their personalities where polar opposites and would often crash.

Alfred's teeth tugged at his bottom lip and his gaze was set on the plate that sat on the kitchen counter. "Something did happen..."

Matthew's gaze remained unperturbed on the dish in his hand, but his eyebrow quirked up. "Really, what?"

Alfred didn't really know how he could bring it out. It wasn't as easy as saying '_Hey Mattie, I met this guy at mom's chemotherapy and he was totally hot and British, but I swear I'm still one hundred percent straight_.' He thought that maybe he could squeeze around the gender part.

"I met someone today. Short, British, feisty, with these really nice green eyes unlike any I've ever seen."

Matthew stopped his washing and turned off the faucet as he turned to face him. His expression was unreadable and he seemed to be soaking in and piecing together the context clues in his statement. "There are no British girls, or guys for that matter, in school. Where did you meet this person?"

"Waddya mean by... Never mind... I met him at mom's chemotherapy... Well I met his little brother before, but still." Unaware that the slip of the mysterious stranger's gender was what caused his younger brother to smirk, Alfred sighed.

"So a boy, eh?" Alfred crinkled his nose in questioning, but then realized his mistake and brought his hand to his face. Matthew chuckled at the red that flooded his brother's pale cheeks. "Between you and I, Al." Purple eyes darted toward both entrances of the kitchen, and a quieted voice was brought down softer. "I've dated my fair share of guys, and I promise you, it's worth it."

Alfred's eyes widened at the newly acquired information and he let a light gasp escape his lips. "_Matthew_!"

The Canadian simply giggled and continued washing where he left off.


	2. Week Two

**Woohoo another update! Thank you so much for the reviews and the follows/favs. You guys don't understand how happy it makes me! Ahh!  
**

**In case any of you are wondering, which you probably aren't, something very similar to this happened to my sister, she was the alfred in this case, and the boy with cancer was, of course, the arthur. She went with my mother to her chemotherapy's every week and she saw this one guy about her age and every dy she would come home with some cute and happy story about him. Obviously there are elements of fiction in this fic, but a lot of it is real. I am just so inspired to write this, you guys have no idea. like the only creative inspiration I have RN is this story and a few unfinished one-shots. but ANYWAYS**

**Enjoy, my cupcakes!**

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**Week Two  
(September 10th, 2014)**

Alfred had heard his name called a total of one hundred times in an eight hour time period by over fifty different people. He had been anything but concentrated that day, or the past week to be more precise, but who could blame him?

He brought the back of his sweaty, dirt-covered, hand to his forehead and wiped away the tiny beads of sweat piling on from the scorching sun above, or at least he hoped that the sun was the cause. In a matter of minutes, his mother would pick him up from football practice and take him to the center with her.

The _center_. The **_cancer_** center.

Alfred felt a wave of uneasiness flood his body and rested his elbows on his thighs as he stuffed his head in his calloused hands.

The past week had been an intrapersonal hell battle for him. When he finally laid his head on his pillow last week, after his talk with Matthew, everything had been put into prospective. His mother was extremely sick, and he didn't let his mind wonder much on that; he couldn't bear to think of a world without his mother (he thought Matthew to be the strongest man in the universe after hearing about his mother's, Madeline, death).

Then there was that other nagging little voice in the back of his head. The one that always directed itself toward _him_. How could someone he had only met for no more than ten minutes have had that _big _an effect on him. Oh yeah! He knew why, but he wasn't going to admit it to himself; or anyone else for that matter.

An irritated groan fought at the back of his throat and he threw his head back, irritated and dirty fingernails picking at sweaty clumps of foul-smelling hair.

_Why_?

Before Alfred had a chance to fall anymore into his internal state of self-pity, a horn was honked from its parked position in front of him and he sighed. He grabbed his gym bag and his school bag from the floor beside him and marched toward the car. He stuffed the bags in the back seat and opened his arms to hug his mother, only to laugh at her contorted face.

"Honey, I love you _so _much; but you stink. I'm taking you home first, then we can go."

They did just that. Alfred was given five minutes to get ready, and was down in four, a new record for him. His mother raised a suspicious eyebrow at her son, but decided against asking and only scolded him for pushing his feet up on top of the dashboard.

Alfred only laughed at her motherly instincts, but kept his legs on the dashboard, much to Amelia's annoyance. The ride to the center consisted of small chit chat of how their days went. Amelia had told him about her thoughts on quitting her job, because of how tired the chemotherapy was making her – and it had only been _two_ of them – and Alfred retorted by saying he would get one so she wouldn't have to worry about money, but Amelia scolded him and told him to focus on his studies and on football.

That was the thing.

Alfred hadn't focused on _either _of those things in a week; and he sure as heck didn't have the heart to tell his mother that he had flunked three tests in the same week, so he opted on complaining about how rigorous his new school years classes had become. Not to mention that he had been benched for the next football game because of how angry one of his classmates had made him with a derogatory comment about gay guys.

Amelia knew her son. She _had_ too. She didn't raise him for eighteen years straight so she could just ignore how… _un-Alfred_ he was acting at the moment.

"Are you alright?" She asked, her tone was drenched with a thick metaphorical layer of honey as her motherly hand found a home on his shoulder. Alfred's lips spread into a small smile and he nodded.

"'Course. Mom! Why wouldn't I be?"

She slowly removed her hand and smiled back. "_Hm._ No reason, pumpkin!" She grabbed her manila folder from its spot in-between her and Alfred's seat and followed her son into the cancer center.

Amelia noticed the change in aura that her son had taken when he stepped inside and it made her heart clench. She could _feel_ how much pain it brought him to be in there, but she didn't want to go through it alone. _Never_. She sighed as she made her way to the front desk.

Alfred took a seat in the chair closest to the exit, not even bothering to scan the room for a familiar face, and propped his elbow on to the arm of the chair all before resting his chin on the palm of his hand. He let out a deep huff of air and fumbled in the pocket of his gray sweatpants for his iPod and headphones. When he pulled the device out of his pocket, his mother's sudden appearance gave him a startle and the iPod all but dove out of his hands.

He let out a strong curse under his breath and reached down to pick it up. When he sat back up, he noticed a pair of emerald eyes studying him silently, and turn away when they caught his blue ones. He wasn't sure if it was the lighting, but he swore he could see a hint of pint appear on the Englishman's cheeks… yeah, probably the lighting.

A few seconds later, Peter appeared in front of Alfred and hugged the teenager with a friendly hug. Alfred's mother raised an eyebrow and put a protective hand on top of Alfred's, an action that she did when she didn't recognize someone. Not soon after, Arthur stood up and scolded his younger brother for running off and hugging random people.

"I _know_ him. He's not a random person, Artie." Arthur scowled at the immature nickname.

"Yeah, _Artie_. Let the kid say hey. What's up Pete?"

Before Arthur could protest, Peter pulled up a chair and sat in front of Alfred as he babbled on about some new video game their parents had bought him. Defeated, Arthur took the seat across from Amelia and flashed a small smile her way.

Amelia returned an _all-American_ smile and started to fiddle with her folder, using her free-hand. It was then that Arthur noticed that her hand coated Alfred's like a comforting blanket and he couldn't help but frown at that.

Arthur had ended up having a rough week as well. For some reason he found his mind wondering away those past seven days. Whether it was coming up a few cents short when giving cash back during work, or completely messing up an order and wasting everyone's time, or just plain dozing off in the middle of the day, Arthur found himself _extremely_ distracted that week.

He didn't know why, but he deduced it to be a side-effect of the chemotherapy... yep, that's what it was. Soon, but not soon enough, Arthur heard his name be called by one of the nurses, along with a Mrs. Amelia Jones-Williams.

Peter and Alfred were left alone once again and they talked about everything that came to mind, from video games, to food, to crushes. It was sweet how excited Peter was to talk about the Australian girl in his class. "She asked me to go to her birthday party next week! I'm so excited."

"Aw, little dude, you're growing up so fast. What are you going to give her as a present, a kiss?" Alfred teased, filling the nearly quiet waiting room with the sound of kisses. He chuckled as the boy's cheeks flushed a deep crimson as he shook his head.

"I… um. Got her a card, and a little koala bear stuffed animal… koala's are her favorite. Arthur helped me pick it out."

Alfred's childish smile took up most of his face; he remembered going through a similar phase with some Belarussian girl when he was about twelve... not that it worked out too well… but that wasn't the point. "Good job, little man! Girls love those kinds of things."

Peter laughed awkwardly and nodded. He wasn't completely comfortable with his decision as his over active twelve-year old imagination thought up every possible thing that could go wrong. After a few more "words of wisdom" from Alfred and a bit more empty chit-chat, Peter ended up fast asleep on Alfred's shoulder as the American sat scrolling through his twitter newsfeed.

Thirty minutes or so of inactivity passed and both Arthur and Amelia excited the treatment room in laughing fits. Alfred raised a questioning eyebrow, but said nothing. When Amelia saw her son and Arthur's brother, she fawned over the scene, snapping a quick picture, and offered that Alfred take Peter to the car.

"I think I can manage." Arthur huffed as he walked toward his brother.

Amelia pursed her lips. "I don't think so, mister The-Beatles-are-better-than-Elvis. I know how weak I get after these things, let Alfred do it. He doesn't bite."

Alfred chuckled at his mother's word choice and the effect it had on Arthur's pale cheeks. In one quick movement, Alfred picked up the light twelve-year old bridal style and followed behind the shorter male. The duo walked in silence, which was held together by Peter's light snores, toward the only Jeep Wrangler in the parking lot.

Alfred smirked as he settled the pre-teen into the back seat. "Nice car. Jeeps are a personal favorite of mine." He stuffed his hands into the warmth of his pockets and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

"Yea… mine too." He spoke in a tone that screamed _are you an idiot? _"I wouldn't have asked for it if I didn't want it."

Alfred's eyes widened with newfound interest. "You _asked_ for a car and they just _gave _it to you? How rich are your parents?"

Arthur shook his head, finding the door of his car slightly more alluring than Alfred's crystal blue eyes. "No. Not them." Alfred opened his mouth to question, but Arthur answered. "Cancer perk."

Alfred's mouth was no longer agape, but pressed into a thin, hard line. His eyebrows were knitted together and mimicked the feeling that was growing in the pit of his stomach. His nose crinkled slightly, causing his glasses to shift and drawing Arthur's attention to his eyes once more.

"Cancer perk." Alfred repeated, a feeling of disgust filled his being. A perk for being sick… so sick that at any moment one could just give out and _d_-

"Yes." Arthur let out a deep breath and jiggled his keys in front of Alfred. "I should get going… my parents are going to be worried if I don't get home and my step-brother will probably have my throat, bloody frog."

As Arthur turned to leave, a strong hand found its home on his wrist. "Frog?" He asked, ignoring the electricity that shot through his body from just that one chaste touch. "Not the point, let me see your phone."

"I beg your pardon." Arthur huffed, still making no effort to remove his hand from Alfred's grasp.

Alfred smirked. "If you don't give it, I'll just grab it."

Arthur's cheeks flushed a vivid red and he reached into his pocket with his free hand. Alfred grabbed the object from the Brit's grasp and typed in his number. He sent himself a text and smirked once more as he handed back the phone and let go of Arthur's wrist, pushing the dreary feeling that came with the loss of contact to the back of his mind.

After all, Arthur was just a friend. Friend's give each other their numbers all the time… right?

Arthur murmured a quick goodbye as Alfred walked toward his mother's Kia Sorrento. The Brit climbed into the driver's side and turned on the ignition as he rested his forehead on the steering wheel and let out a long, over-held breath escape his lips. "Bloody American."

From the backseat, Peter rolled his eyes at his older brother. He knew very well what this meant, and he dreaded every moment that would come after it.

Alfred slipped into the SUV and smiled brightly at his mother who smirked up at him. "What's with the look, mommy?"

"Oh, don't give me that bullshit." Amelia hissed, fake anger evident. "Now, tell me… Is he a good kisser?"

Alfred's eye widened and his throat went dry. What kind of question-? "_Mom!_ We did _not_ kiss. Arthur and I are just friends, acquaintances even, we just met last week."

Amelia pursed her lips. "I don't believe you; you took too long. Did you at least get his number?"

As if on cue, his iPhone vibrated from inside his pocket. Alfred pulled out the phone and smirked at the unknown number.

-_O Alfred ur sooo perfect bae. Luv ya.  
_That was the message he had sent himself.

-_Real mature. By the way, do you guys plan on staying there all day?  
_That was actually from Arthur.

The smug look on her son's face spoke for itself and she laughed as she punched his shoulder softly. Then, realization smacked her like a ton of bricks and she frowned. "Be careful, Alfred."

And that was the end of that.


	3. Week Three: Arthur

**Hey guys I'mback! this is a quick update that I spent the past couple hours typign up, I have togetgoing in like three seconds because i need to do my homework before we leave ( procrastination SUCKS! )**

**Important stuff for this chapter: Artie and Francis are step-brothers and they have a playful relationship full of constant brotherly teasing, and they both care for Peter greatly (Artie more than Francis)**

**If there's anything else to include i'll write it up later! **

**Enjoy the fluffynesss at the end! Love ya, cupcakes! **

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**Week Three  
(September 16, 2014)**

Arthur

Strong winds tugged at the screens that surrounded the pool, causing an eerie whistle to jingle throughout the silent neighborhood. It was two in the morning and Arthur had long since lost any capability to sleep; especially since every so often his phone would vibrate with the response of a certain American boy.

With his jeans rolled up to his knees, Arthurs dipped his feet into the warm water. A small smile formulated on his lips as his feet kicked and small waves splashed against the pool walls in that sweet, calming way that he absolutely adored. He found it one of the biggest perks to living with a pool in his backyard.

Despite the random spurts of cold air, which was shielded by the pool screens, the night was calm and absolutely perfect.

Arthur hadn't told his family about Alfred, not that there was anything to tell really. The only one who knew about him was Peter, and he thought them only to be friends while constantly requesting to text Alfred about random things.

Peter would talk non-stop to Arthur about Alfred; claiming that the American was in fact _his_ best friend and not Arthur's. It was cute, to say the least, but it also annoyed Arthur a tiny bit, because when their conversations would run dry, Alfred would ask about how Peter was doing.

But it wasn't like it _bothered_ Arthur at all.

Oh god, those past two weeks had been total hell for Arthur. Not only had he developed a form of more-than-just-platonic feelings for an American boy that he barely knew, he had also got fired from his job, flunked on of his online courses, and frankly was at the point where he wanted to pluck the - already receding, thin, and barely visible – hair from his head because of that _one _guy.

Arthur's phone vibrated from beside him and his eyes darted onto the screen, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as his step-brother's name flashed on the screen. He decided to ignore it, proclaiming that Alfred must have fallen asleep –not that he blamed him, the poor boy had to be up for school in a few hours.

A couple silent moments later, the siding door opened from behind him and his step-brother emerged, a metal baseball bat held protectively over his head as his French flag boxers flapped in the slight wind. Blue eyes short around nervously and a relieved sigh left his lips when he spotted the Englishman.

"I called you!" Francis hissed as he set the bat down on the floor and closed the sliding door behind him.

Arthur shrugged. "Yeah, I know."

Francis frowned, but walked over to his step-brother and took a seat beside him, mimicking Arthur's actions. "So, what's on your mind, mon cher?"

"Nothing." He replied curtly. Francis narrowed his eyes.

"Don't lie. There's something on your mind that you're not telling me." The Frenchman crossed his arms over his bare chest and frowned.

"I never tell you anything." Arthur replied. Francis glared at his brother and began to stand up before a hand wrapped protectively around his wrist. "Okay, I _may _have something that I might want to talk to you about."

One could feel the smirk that danced on Francis' lips as he sat back down. Arthur took a deep breath and explained everything to Francis, glad that he didn't have to stop his story at all and, that his brother listened intently.

Francis was quiet for a few seconds, as he let the information sink in, but smirked. "Alfred. As in Alfred Jones; Varsity football captain?" Arthur remembered something about Alfred being in some sport so he just nodded. "He's untouchable."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, but then remember that she was still in high school. "Untouchable? I've only been outside of school for about a year and they already come up with terms like this?"

"It basically means that he's that guy that everyone wants to get with, but he's so reserved that no one even tries. Hasn't been in a relationship since middle school." Francis chuckled. "More power to him."

Arthur let out a low hmm of understanding. It was odd to think that someone as handsome and built and gorgeous as he would be single. Arthur, on the other hand, could write a three page, single spaced, essay on why he hasn't dated anyone in months.

Francis noticed the look his step-brother wore and frowned. He only made that face when he was overthinking something. An evil smirk then danced its way onto his lips as he pushed Arthur's phone back a few feet and stood up. Arthur had been too lost in thought to notice until it was too late. Francis grabbed him from underneath the armpits and threw him into the water, jumping in right after.

Arthur then proceeded to pound his brother with punch after punch for being such an '_asshat_,' not that Francis minded because he was laughing his head off.

"Don't you have school in a few hours, Frog?" Francis rolled his eyes and groaned.

"I wish I didn't." He muttered after dipping his head back into the warm water. Arthur, in the other hand, got himself out of the water and slung curse words at his brother for causing his clothes to obnoxiously stick to him. Francis smirked and followed him out.

"Go to sleep, Arthur. You need it." Francis said in a worried tone as he put a comforting hand on Arthur's elbow and gave it a squeeze. Arthur flashed him a small smile and the two headed inside to their separate bedrooms; unaware that they were both in for a long night.

* * *

**(September 17, 2014)**

"Arthur, mon amour, you should get going or you'll be late!" Francine called from downstairs. Arthur ignored her accented plea as he continued his hunt for his cell phone. The entire day he had been deprived from his cell phone because he had no idea where that thing was. It was driving him crazy!

The Brit dropped down to his knees and searched under his bed for the tenth time that afternoon. He had found everything but his stupid phone.

"Artie, what are you looking for?" Peter asked from the door, his head slightly cocked to the side. Arthur looked up at him, knocked his head on frame of his bed, and let out a long hiss.

"My phone, have you seen it anywhere, poppet?"

Peter nodded. "I saw it downstairs near the pool when I got home. I thought you left it there on purpose so I didn't tell you."

With a hand rubbing his, now, extremely sensitive spot, Arthur used the other one to pat his brother on the head and sprinted down the stairs. Francine tried to catch his attention as he zipped by, but failed. When Arthur finally got his phone back, he noticed that it had been bombarded with texts and calls from Alfred.

Just as he unlocked the phone, a new text message flooded in.

_I'm here, and you better be too. Open the door._

He was about to text back when he heard the doorbell ring throughout the house. Arthur went up to the sliding door and slowly opened it as he watched his step-mother open the door.

"Good afternoon, my name is Alfred Jones, I'm a close friend of Arthur's. I was wondering, is he okay? He hasn't been sick or anything? He wasn't answering my texts or calls so... You can imagine how I felt." Alfred's smile was bright, even as he spoke in such a formal tone. He was almost one hundred percent sure that this was the house that Francis told him, but the look on the woman's face told him otherwise.

Francine, as a response, only stared at Alfred. She was trying to pinpoint where she had known those bright blue eyes from, and that award-winning smile, and even that unique shade of blond that sat on his head.

"Uh- he's fine. He's in the back, I think. Is your mother outside?" Alfred raised an eyebrow at her question, but nodded. Francine nodded as well and left toward the car as Alfred stepped in the house, his eyes wide as he looked around.

The house was beautiful, the walls were painted either black red or beige and paintings of famous landmarks from France and England adorned the walls. The furniture was simple, but in the way that made you want to question why it worked so well. As Alfred walked down the hall, there were framed pictures handing along them. Some of his friend Francis and his mother, others of Arthur and his younger brother, and one, that hung beautifully in the center of the living room, was a family portrait with Francis' mom and - whom Alfred assumed to be - Arthur's dad in the back, each with one hand on either boy and Peter squeezed right in between Arthur and Francis.

Alfred was about to pull his phone out to take a picture, but the action reminded him of why he was there in the first place. He ripped his gaze from the picture and his eyes widened with relief as he saw Arthur standing outside, looking at the pool.

Before he could stop himself, Alfred ran outside and wrapped his arms around Arthur in a hug. The British teen shrieked in response to the contact, but relaxed when he realized who it was. It took a while for Alfred to let him go, but when he did he stuffed his face onto Arthur's shoulder and cried silently.

Arthur blinked at the action, confused to why the teen was breaking down in front of him, but still brought comforting hands to Alfred's back. The contact caused Alfred to wrap his arms around Arthur's waist (which may or may not have caused the Englishman to blush wildly) and pull the smaller male in closer.

Alfred muttered something into Arthur's shoulder and stood his intimidatingly tall height once again. He took a deep breath and wiped the tears away with the back of his hand.

"Don't you ever scare me like that again, Arthur!" Alfred bit his lip softly before whispering out the words: _I thought I'd lost you_.

Arthur was at a loss for words, it was as if thirteen years of schooling had magically disappeared and he had no knowledge of any language whatsoever. His lips parted slightly and he blinked a few times before letting his head hang low.

"I... Didn't mean to. I swear. Last night Francis and I were outside and he hid my phone, I guess, and I just found it right now. Bollocks I'm so sorry for making you worry. I can't imagine how stressful it must be to have to worry about someone with a disease like mine."

Alfred's eyebrows furrowed and his lips fell into a straight line. He hesitantly brought his shaking hand up to cup Arthur's chin. He forced Arthur to look up at him and smiled softly. "Stop thinking of yourself as less. God made you the way you are for a reason - not that I'm religious or anything, it's just something I few up hearing... I should get back on track now." He paused for a second, not once taking his eyes away from Arthur, and took one of Arthur's hands in his free hand. "And I think that reason was so that we could meet."

Arthur's mind raced, his heart thumped sporadically in his chest, his skin cherished every touch Alfred offered and craved every touch that was yet to come. This had been the first time, in a very long time, that anyone had made him feel like that and the poor Brit didn't know how to react.

Alfred gulped. His palms were beginning to sweat from the lack of response that Arthur offered. _What if he only sees me as a friend? What if this is freaking him out? Oh god, what if his doesn't like me the way I like him?_ Alfred's hands retracted with such sped that one would think Arthur's skin had suddenly turned into lava.

From Arthur's lips escaped a disappointed whine, but he didn't dare to reach out again. This whole encounter had felt so foreign... So new. Everything about it was strange, but that's what made him _crave_ even more.

"Ah... Sorry. I got a bit carried away." Alfred said, his blue eyes finding a sudden interest in the pool behind Arthur.

Arthur's eyes ran over every inch of Alfred's body. He wanted to hold him, to touch him, to feel him, to kiss him, to taste him, he wanted everything Alfred had to offer and he wanted it all to himself. It was time for him to become a little selfish. He could honestly say that no one had ever driven him crazier than Alfred had... And that was a good thing.

_It's now or never, Artie, go for it! _He told himself as he took one step closer to Alfred. The American had been too caught up in his thoughts to notice. Then he took another step... And another... And another... Until, he was so close that he could feel the heat radiating off of Alfred's nervous body. His soft, feminine hands found a home on either side of Alfred's cheeks and right when Alfred placed his, much larger, hands on Arthur's hips a wolf whistle was heard from inside and the two scrambled in different directions; both breathing heavily and completely flushed as Francis laughed from inside.

"You Frog!" Arthur yelled after he evened out his breathing. He stormed after his younger step-brother; leaving Alfred behind to recollect his thoughts and feelings.

* * *

**And yes it ends here! I think the next chapter will be the next day (Since i decided that every week tehy see each other is wednesday!) but it all depends on how i feel that day! ANyway thank you all for your support, you guys are the reason I smile every day! Stay awesome! **


	4. Week Four

**I didn't update last week! I'm so sorry guys! Life really sucks sometimes!**

**There is good news though. I finally outlined how this story will go and it will have 11 Chapters (the 11th being an epilogue) How exciting, no?**

**Anyways, enjoy, my cupcakes! :D**

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**Week 4  
(September 24, 2014)**

As the clock ticked and the day dragged on, Alfred's nervous mannerisms began to take over. It had been six days since he'd last seen Arthur - only because their families had a dinner together - and the Briton had promised Alfred that he would pick Matthew, Francis, and himself up from school that afternoon.

Everyone questioned the athlete on his bizarre behavior, and the only response they would get was a loud, all-American, laugh and a pat on the back. Even the teachers began to worry on the overabundance of happiness that radiated from him, and the only ones who knew the truth laughed to themselves.

Alfred had always been the type to become a completely newer version of himself when someone returned his feelings, and this time was no different. He even found himself singing Disney songs throughout the day, even though that wasn't rare for him - it was just odd to hear.

He even skipped Football practice.

_Skipped it._

Even Matthew found that shocking.

"Do you think we'll get food? I want McDonald's, does Arthur like McDonald's? I better ask him." After that outburst during lunch, Matthew and Francis - who had begun sitting with the jock during lunch - decided that Alfred mirrored that one Italian kid in the grade below them when he was infatuated.

His day had dragged on longer than his liking, but when Alfred caught up to Matthew and Francis at the parking lot he couldn't contain himself. "This is so exciting! He said he was taking us to get food; after scolding me for waking him up before one in the afternoon."

Francis chuckled. "Oh mon cher, get used to it. Scolding is one of the few things he's good for."

Matthew lightly slapped Francis' shoulder and shot him a look. Alfred merely shrugged and stuffed his hand in his pockets to retrieve his vibrating phone. "Hey-a, pumpkin. How are ya?"

"Bloody- oh, whatever. Where are you guys? I'm here- oh never mind I see you guys, come over here." Arthur stuck his hand out from the driver's side of the car and waved. Alfred spotted him and waved back as he adjusted the straps on his backpack and stuffed his phone back in the pocket.

Alfred cocked his head toward the car, a motion that both boys understood, and the trio began to walk toward the car with a hop in his step. "Shotgun!" Alfred called, causing the other two to groan. The American smirked and continued his walk toward the Jeep.

"Arthur!" Alfred cheered when he reached the Jeep. Arthur forced a weak smile, which caused Alfred's to fade.

The teen was paler than Alfred remembered. His green eyes didn't shine and gained just a bit of life upon landing on Alfred, although it wasn't the usual amount. His breathing was timed, and shaky and his, already, loose clothes hung off him in a dangerous manor. Even his lips seemed different, as if they had lost three shades of pink.

Arthur picked at the beanie on his head and let his smile drop into a thin line. "Just get in, Alfred. Don't look at me with pity."

Alfred opened his mouth to protest, but shut it again and climbed into the passenger's seat in defeat. Matthew and Francis sat in the back seats, chatting mindlessly about French culture whilst occasionally sneaking worried glances at Arthur. Francis knew how much Arthur hated being pitied, and any form of worry toward him he took as pity.

The tension in the car was thick, but it didn't stop the two in the back from silently blabbing away. Alfred sat facing the window, curled up into a ball of emotion. He wanted to say something, anything, but he was afraid Arthur would yell at him because of it. Arthur, on the other hand, kept his eyes focused on the road and his mind on the image of Alfred's face before he got into the car. With a deep breath, Arthur polled one of his hands away from the steering wheel and brought the freehand to massage his temple.

"Where do you want to eat, Alfred?" His voice was dry and hoarse, which only caused the American to flinch. Arthur shot him a glance from the side of his eye and frowned. "And just because I'm not watching you, it doesn't mean you can ride in this car without a seatbelt on, Jones."

Alfred bit his lip and sighed. "I... I'm not that hungry. Where'd ya wanna eat, Mattie?"

Matthew was momentarily taken about by Alfred's statement and bit his lip. "I... Uh. Anywhere is good for me."

Francis took his hand and gave it a squeeze, but smiled. "How about Chinese, who doesn't love good Chinese Food every once in a while?" Arthur responded with a nod and drove them to the restaurant.

. . .

After they placed their orders, the four teens sat in the booth closest to the exit. Arthur had let his tired demeanor get the best of him and snuggled up beside Alfred, falling into a deep sleep not long after.

Francis sighed, melodramatically. "Pauvre, Arthur. Those chemo therapies do nothing but tire him out, it's just strange how this treatment has lasted the whole week, he's usually only like this for a couple days."

Alfred's blue eyes fell upon Arthur's sleeping form and he smiled. He looked so peaceful when he slept. "Does he have to get one today?" Alfred asked in a hushed whisper, as if any tone higher would wake him up.

"Hopefully not." Francis answered truthfully. "I don't think they're allowed to conduct them if the side-effects last this long."

Once again Alfred snuck a glance at him and smiled, only this time he made the effort to place a short, chaste, kiss on Arthur's exposed forehead. The Briton shifted in his sleep and let out a long, clam breath before smiling and nuzzling back into the spot he held.

Matthew smiled sweetly at the scene and Francis snuck a picture of the two. He nudged Matthew on the side and showed him the picture, only to have Matthew's smile grow wider at the sight. He had never seen his step-brother more himself in a picture.

A tall, feminine looking male brought the food to the table and smiled slightly at the scene. "Would you like a container, aru? It seems as if your hands are full."

Alfred nodded and mouthed 'Thank You' as the man walked away to retrieve the carry-out box. Matthew and Francis casually ate their food, and made small talk in between mouthfuls.

Thirty minutes later, they were on their way to the treatment center. Francis drove, albeit illegally, and Matthew sat beside him whilst Alfred sat in the back with Arthur fast asleep, his head on Alfred's lap. The American ran his hand up and down Arthur's back repeatedly, in a calming, nurturing way; not only to relax Arthur, but himself.

When they arrived, Alfred slowly woke Arthur, who groaned in response and snuggled into his chest, causing the American to blush wildly. Even though it was a recently occurring action, Alfred loved it when Arthur made a subconscious decision to snuggle up next to him.

"C'mon, Artie." Alfred whispered into his ear. "We're here."

Arthur's eyes slowly batted open and he stretched; his unique form of stretching caused his shirt to ride up for only a second, but a second was all it took to get the American's mind racing and his cheeks flushed a shy pink. "Huh? Oh, hi Alfred." Arthur spoke slowly, still not one hundred percent aware of his surroundings, and he patted his shoulder. "What 'er you doin' 'ere?"

"Uh." Alfred mumbled. "C'mon. We have to get you to the chemotherapist," Arthur groaned, but followed behind Alfred. He's so childish when he's tired, Alfred thought.

When the pair entered the waiting room, Francis had already explained the situation to the receptionist and was waiting on the doctor, whilst Francine sat next to him. Matthew was being hugged by Amelia and when she laid eyes on Alfred she kissed Matthew's cheek and ran up to her son.

"Don't ever scare me like that again! I went to pick you guys up from school today and you weren't there, you could've told me you were with Arthur. You have a phone for a reason, young man. Which I should take away since I called you over a dozen times and you didn't answer."

Alfred patted his mom's back to let her know he needed to breathe, and Mrs. Williams-Jones let her son go, muttering a quick 'oops' in the process.

"You didn't call-" Alfred flushed when he say his phone was bombarded with missed text messages and phone calls from his mother. "Oh. I'm sorry, mom. My phone was on silent."

Amelia pursed her lips and nodded her head. "Told ya. So was Matthew's, I'll punch both of you kids if you ever do that again. At this rate, I'll die of a heart attack and not cancer."

Alfred's breath hitched. He knew it was a joke, from her overall tone and the laugh at the end, but it wasn't funny to him. It literally shattered his heart into a billion pieces. All he could do was hang his head low in shame and repent.

It took Amelia a couple seconds, but she realized her mistake and frowned. "Oh god, sweetheart. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to joke about that!" She quickly brought Alfred into a hug, only this time it was warmer, kinder, and full of love. "I'll never do it again." Alfred nodded into her embrace and clung onto the fabric of her shirt as his bit back a cry. Nothing mattered more to him than his mother.

"Its okay mom, just don't go around saying things like that, it may upset someone else." Amelia nodded and took her son's hand as she led him toward the Kirkland-Bonnefoy's.

After taking to the doctor, it was decided that Arthur wasn't physically stable enough to go through another chemotherapy session. Francine and Francis ended up taking him home whilst Alfred and Matthew stayed behind with their mother.

It was quiet between the two, which scared Matthew. Usually Alfred would be bouncing off of the walls telling Matthew pointless things and experiences from school. But the stillness, the quietness, and the overall depressing aura that hung around Alfred made the Canadian's heart ache.

"H-hey Al?" Alfred hmm'd but kept his gaze fixed on the dirty tile flooring. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." Liar. His response was quick and sharp, and Matthew knew it was a lie.

"Please, Al. I haven't seen you like this in a while. Did something happen with you and Arthur?"

Alfred took a deep breath and shut his eyes. He turned to face his step-brother and when he opened his eyes, Matthew frowned. The mask on his blue eyes had broken and revealed every emotion that swirled behind them. Fear, hurt, anger, resentment, and anxiousness all co-existed behind those blue eyes.

"No. But yes, and... I... I don't know, Matt. It's hard to explain." Alfred ran his hands through his hair and rested his head in his hands

Matthew didn't think, he acted on instinct and brought his brother into a tight hug. "It's okay, Al. You always keep things like this bottled up inside. It's only hurting you. You can tell me anything at all and I promise I'll listen." His warm, comforting touch was enough to break Alfred and he cried, silently.

He told Matthew about his concerns for Arthur. How the boy was on his mind 24/7. How Alfred would worry if he took more than twenty minutes to reply to a message. He told Matthew he knew having Arthur as a friend, or possibly even closer, meant huge responsibility. How just thinking about Arthur having to leave one day broke him into a billion pieces. But he always cried about his mom. He told Matthew about the joke she made and the pain it caused him daily just to know that his mother could be gone in the blink of an eye. Everything that had been, was, or ever will be on Alfred's mind spilled alongside his tears, and all Matthew could do was hug him. And it killed him.

Alfred had managed to calm down when their mother ended the chemos, but didn't utter a single word to her. The trio walked out into the car park and scrambled into the Audi. The ride home was quiet, save for the radio that played in the background, and when they arrived Alfred went straight to his room. He had had enough of everything for one day, more so after having cried his heart out. All he needed was sleep.

* * *

**Translation:  
French:**** Pauvre- **Poor (like aw, poor kid.)

A teeny tiny China Cameo in this chapter :D


	5. Week Five

**You guys probably hate me! I tried to shift my update day toward Wednesdays, to match in real time with the story, but that didn't work. My best friend has literally shown up to my house 4/7 of the days this week demanding me to go with her somewhere. like my mom is so happy that today is family day so i'm not out. I'm kinda happy too, socializing is hard work!**

**Okay anyways, I have a few announcements and questions, p_lease feel free to reply to the first one;_ the more the merrier.  
**

**1._ What are some of the things you think would be on Arthur's bucketlist ?(_ things -within reason- that he can do. next chapter is dedicated to that and I have a few ideas, but a couple more would be perfect. I want to make next chapter long, to make up for the shortness of this one.)  
**

**2. If any of you read my other stories, You will have noticed that Delinquency and Maps are on HUGE hiatus, mostly for lack of inspiration, BUT I Shall make it up to you guys, you know how? I_n this past week I have gotten SIX one-shot Ideas (fall/Halloween themed) and TWO story ideas and I'm excited for ALL of them. October's a big month for all of you that follow me :D_  
**

**3. I have a songlist on my profile of the songs I feel fit best with this story. If you have any others, feel free to comment and I'll add them to the list. **

**And that is the end of my ridiculously long authors note, ENJOY, MY CUPCAKES!**

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**Week Five  
(October 1, 2014)**

A strong hand tightened around the strap of a red gym bag whilst the other stretched out in front of him. His knuckles had begun to turn white due to how hard he clutched the strap. His other hand shook violently as his forefinger lightly pushed the small plastic button, causing a chime to echo throughout the monstrous house.

Alfred gulped, nervous about the whole situation.

Arthur hadn't talked to him since Monday and he was teeming with anxiety. It was the first time in two weeks that he hadn't talked to him, and to make things worse, Francis hadn't been to school since Monday either so Alfred's mind flooded with endless, painful possibilities.

Alfred heard shuffling behind the door followed by hushed whispers and he shifted his weight awkwardly. The locks clicked from the inside and he suddenly felt subconsciously small.

Francine Bonnefoy-Kirkland had been the one to open the door, and Alfred barely recognized her (granted, he had only met her once or twice before). Her blonde hairs, usually filled with life and bounce, hung limply, unwashed, and dirty at her sides. Her deep blue eyes were dull, scared, and distant. Her lips were chapped and un-glossed. Overall she looked tired and helpless, but she still managed a smile.

"Oh, hi sweetie." She greeted, her nails drumming on the wooden door. "How are you? What brings you here today?"

Alfred's vision drooped to the floor and his bangs helped shield his face. "Um…" The hand that wrapped around the strap tightened, causing his fingernails to dig into the skin of his palm. "C-can I come in?"

Francine looked hesitant, but let the boy step into her home. Respectively, Alfred took his shoes off and followed her into the living room. Unlike last time, the room was a mess; the coffee table was missing, most of the family pictures no longer hung up on the wall, and a bunch of the paintings where cut.

Alfred gulped and took a seat on the couch across from Francine. She tried her hardest to flash a smile, but found it to be harder than she thought. "Could I… Is-…"

"No." She replied sternly. "He is not in the mood to see anyone right now." Her tone was calm, but Alfred knew there was something wrong. Something very wrong.

He opened his mouth to speak, but decided against it and sighed, his hands drumming rhythmically on his lap. It felt like an eternity before any noise was heard, and the footsteps descending down the stairs caught the attention of the pair.

"Mon Dieu, maman!" Francis started when he reached the bottom step. He rested the back of his hand on his forehead in a dramatic manor, and sighed. He was well aware that they had a house guest, and knowing that it was Alfred made his smile flicker. "Oh, bonjour, Alfred." Alfred nodded in his direction and caught those deep eyes in an instant, begging them to help him. "How is Mattie doing?"

Taken aback, Alfred blinked but replied anyway. "He dropped me off, he'll be picking me up later. He's fine though." Francis nodded and made his way toward his original destination, the fridge. Alfred gulped loudly and shifted in his seat. Francine was watching him and he could feel her eyes burning into the side if his head.

Moments later, Francis came back with two cups and a smile on his face. He shot his mother a look and dragged him toward the stairs. Alfred's body shook with every step they took, just knowing that he would be only a mere feet away Arthur not only scared him, but excited him as well.

"So... Why haven't you been in school?" Alfred asking, recalling the, now quiet, lunch periods. Francis sighed and stopped in his tracks.

"I've been helping out around the house. They really need it." He said, but didn't look Alfred in the eye. The American nodded.

Francis continued walking and led Alfred to his room, leaving the cups on his table. He left the door wide open and offered him a seat anywhere, to which he chose to just stand. "Do you have football practice tonight?" He questioned, referring to the bag he wouldn't let go.

"Uh, well... I had... Not anymore." He muttered, his attention now on his shoes. "I'm skipping."

"Mmm." Francis then gestured toward the cups. "Take one, its wine. You'll need it."

Alfred eyed the cups and shook his head. He didn't need it, and he sure as hell didn't want it. Francis shrugged at him and rolled over on the bed, his vision now set on the ceiling. Alfred shuffled awkwardly and decided that a seat on the carpet was his best bet. His breathing was airy and filled with anxiety. His heart pounded in his chest and the silence that fell between them only fueled the sound to continue.

They stayed in silence for a while, fifteen minutes to be exact, before a door opened at the end of the hall and Alfred perked up. Francis had long since fallen asleep and Alfred stuck his head into the hall, his smile struggling to linger. Peter's eyes widened with joy when they met with Alfred.

"Alfie! I missed you! I haven't seen you in weeks! Artie sure has been keeping you to himself." His arms wrapped around Alfred and he hugged him tight, tighter than he's hugged anyone before.

Alfred patted his back before letting himself fully hug the boy back. He had missed Peter and his antics those past couple of weeks. "Sorry, bud. Your brother's so demanding." He joked.

Peter giggled. "Tell me about it." The child took a couple of steps back and smiled. "I'll be right back, I'm so hungry. I think Artie is too, you should say hi. He really missed you, even if he won't admit it out loud." Alfred opened his mouth to speak, but Peter cut him off. "Last door on the left."

Alfred blinked. Once, twice, and then a third time. His head unconsciously titled to the side and he slowly stood up. He held his breath upon leaving the room and his eyes darted up and down the hall, his steps were slow and quiet. Every step caused his heart to thump sporadically and his hands to clench and unclench at his sides.

Far too soon, Alfred found himself in front of the bedroom door with his hand only seconds from knocking. He took one last deep breath and let his fist knock silently on the door. He heard shuffling from behind the door and his stomach twisted in nervousness. His jaw clenched tightly and his eyes darted nervously around the hallway. His heart stopped when the doorknob jiggled, and his breaths came out rapid and uneven.

Arthur knew what to expect when he opened the door, but it didn't stop his heart from racing at the sight. He bit his lip and diverted his gaze onto the carpeted floors, he couldn't bear to look into those helpless eyes in front of him.

Alfred, on the other hand, stared at the teenager before him with wide, pleading eyes. "Arthur."

The Brit in question gulped and tore his gaze from the floor. His left hand rubbed his right arm nervously as he struggled to fight the tears that pricked in his eyes. "Alfred."

Alfred's lips curved downward and he shut his eyes. Arthur couldn't help but mimic his actions as his guilt piled up. "Alfred, look I-"

"Don't." Alfred let a breath escape through his nostrils and looked up at Arthur, eyes filled to the brim with mocking tears. "I want you to be completely honest with me, Arthur."

"I'm nothing if not honest with you, Alfred." He replied, a bit too quick and defensive for Alfred's liking.

Biting back a rude comment, Alfred continued. "Arthur. What in the world is going on? You haven't texted or called me in two days. Your brother hasn't been to school. Your step-mom looks like she hasn't slept in months! Arthur what happened?"

He wasn't shouting, if anything he was whispering, but his tone was filled with confusion, anger, and betrayal.

Arthur bit back a sob, taking two deep breaths before he talked. "I didn't want to tell you, Alfred. I thought it would be easier for both of us if I just stopped talking to you and you never heard from me again. I just want what's best for you and right now, it's not me."

"What do you-"

Arthur's gaze once again found the floor. "I... Alfred... I'm not getting any better. If anything, I'm getting worse. My doctor's received a few of my results... my chances don't look so good, and my days are wearing thin. I don't want to hurt you, and if I let you get closer to me, that's all that I will do."

"Arthur..." Alfred breathed, a terrified gasp of air escaping his lips. "Why didn't you-... I care so much about you, what would make you think that not talking to me would be beneficial for either of us?" He hadn't noticed that he was crying until Arthur pulled him into a tight hug and he felt the tears pile up. He wrapped his arms around the elder and gave him a tight squeeze. Alfred shook, every emotion that accumulated once before was being let out into the shoulder of a young British man.

"I'm sorry…" Arthur whispered into Alfred's ear as he stroked the taller blonde's hair lovingly, one could almost say _longingly_. It pained him to consider the possibility that he would be gone sometime soon and Alfred would stay here, _without _him.

It had only been a month, but Arthur swore that in that short amount of time he had gotten to know a side of Alfred that he didn't let others see often. The calm, sweet, and caring side of Alfred F. Jones; and he loved it.


	6. Week Six

**So you know when you have everything planned out and then you're just like... no? Well that's what happened to me and it explains my two week hiatus. **

**BUT! I also was luck enough to go to Halloween Horror Nights _(For my non-american/ non- Floridian /non-Californian readers, it's like basically when Universal Studios opens their park from 6pm-1am and they separate it into different scare zones and haunted houses, its a real blast if you love horror things like i do.) _and this chapter was inspired by my experience last night. **

**Everything except the drive home happened to me and I was the Arthur whilst the friend i went with was the Alfred. It was just a blast, I loved it! **

**Anyways, enjoy, my cupcakes!**

* * *

**Week Six  
(October 8, 2014)**

Alfred stared at the bright signs, that illuminated the eerily dark seven o'clock skies, his throat running dry at the sight. From beside him, Arthur stood, the signs making his bright smile even more evident.

People crowded the entrance, each pushing and shoving a different direction to stick with their families. On a small stand, to the far left, stood a girl announcing what kinds of horrors they would encounter that night. Alfred was visibly shaking as she listed off names such as _The Walking Dead_, _Alien vs. Predator_, and _The Purge: Anarchy_. Green eyes flickered toward him and Arthur frowned.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Alfred? I know you're only doing this for me, but we don't have to. We can just go, I don't mind." Arthur's tone was sincere, but Alfred still picked up on the bit of disappointment that oozed through his words. He took a deep, shaky breath and shook his head. _Remember, Al you're doing this for Artie. _

"Don't worry, Artie. It will be a first for both of us. Besides, I'm a hero and heroes don't back down from any situation, no matter how frightening." Arthur tried to fight the smile that tugged at his lips, but ended up laying his head on Alfred's shoulder – even though he may or may not have been standing on his tip-toes.

"We hope you enjoy your night at Universal Studios: Halloween Horror Nights 24!" The crowd erupted into screams and Alfred cringed. _This is going to be a long night._

. . .

After the pair got through the metal detectors, and Alfred bought their express line tickets, Alfred suggested they go on a happy, childish ride first, so at least he could be somewhat on the easy-side when they ventured out into the horror filled theme park.

Only after incessant begging did Arthur cave and the pair went into the line for the Despicable Me ride. The line had been short, and the ride was absolutely adorable, Alfred even asked to go again, but – of course – Arthur said no. Alfred even bought a stuffed unicorn like the one from the movie. When the pair excited the shop, a man in a suit and mask with blood dripping off of him popped out of a corner, scaring Alfred half to death.

"Come on, Alfred. Everything is going to be all right. He is just a man in costume, he cannot hurt you." Arthur said.

Alfred had taken off to run back inside the store. "They can't see me if I'm inside, dude. I'm staying in here where it's safe and there's nothing that can hurt me."

Arthur sighed deeply and rubbed his temples. "Please, Alfred. If anything, I'll protect you, alright?"

"No!" Alfred countered as he came out from hiding (haha see what I did there). He grabbed his stuffed unicorn, along with Arthur's hand, and marched out of the store, his head held high… for a few seconds. "I'm the hero, and I protect you." He tugged Arthur past _The Walking Dead_ house, because the line was two hundred minutes long, but stopped at the sound of gunshots and sirens.

"Bollocks, let's go Alfred. They're not real, the noises are coming from _The Purge_ scare zone. I really want to see what it's-"

"This is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the Annual Purge. At the siren, all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 hours. All emergency services will be suspended. Your government thanks you for your participation."

At the announcement, which Alfred was pretty sure could be heard throughout the entire park, Arthur's eyes brightened and he pulled the resistant American behind him. After a couple more tugs, Arthur gave up and let go of Alfred's hand. He let out a whimper and raced back to Arthur, intertwining their fingers together so he couldn't let go unless Alfred wanted to. Had it been any other circumstance, Alfred would've been jumping for joy at the contact… too bad he was too terrified to think anything of the situation.

The sound effects continued; gun shots shattering windows, fires erupting, and the loud blare of the sirens. As they ventured deeper into the scare zone, masked figures sprung out at them from every angle – which caused Alfred to scream and Arthur to jump – each with something different; whether it be a prop gun, a chainsaw, or some kind of melee weapon. Alfred was sure one of them had tapped on his shoulder at one point, so he closed the gap of space between Arthur and himself.

"I wonder how ridicules we must look to everyone else." Arthur said with a chuckle once they exited the scare zone.

Alfred frowned. "Ridicules? How?"

Arthur raised a thick eyebrow and smirked. "Well, a six foot tall teenager with an obnoxiously noticeable unicorn, grasping the arm of a five foot nine tall teenager for dear life."

"I'm not hanging onto you for dear life." Alfred huffed. "I'm just making sure you don't get scared and run away." Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, sure."

. . .

Both teens gulped when they reached the front of the line for their first haunted house; it being the one with the least waiting time. They were seconds away from slipping away and claiming they never stood in line for it.

Who could blame them though? The theme was clowns and gore.

Before they knew it, the pair was pushed in, and Alfred had – dumbly – volunteered to go in the front of Arthur. The moment the pair stepped through the first door, Arthur latched onto Alfred, hiding his face in the American's back and shutting his eyes tight. It was at that moment he cursed himself for wanting to face his fear of clowns.

Alfred, on the other hand, hugged the unicorn to his body as his blue eyes bulged with fear. Up ahead, frightened screams echoed and eerie, slowed down, and slightly demonic, clown music rung in the empty spaces. To his left, a clown with a twisted, evilly painted face in a skimpy nurse's uniform slowly pulled out the faux entrails of a hollowed out body and placed them into a bucket with a smirk. Alfred shook at the sight and was so distracted by the scene that he didn't notice the clown to his right holding a machete. He let out a strangled whimper and Arthur tightened his grip on around Alfred.

As they continued through the house, Alfred screamed and Arthur refused to open his eyes. When they were out of the haunted house, Arthur opened his eyes and took a deep breath, refusing to let go of Alfred.

"That… was _terrifying_." He croaked out, his body still shaking. Alfred merely nodded.

. . .

The drive home seemed more like the elaborate set-up of the beginning of a zombie apocalypse movie, and Alfred shuddered at the thought. He had volunteered to drive home, since Arthur become too tired to even walk, and was now regretting it. He found it harder to stay up with every passing second, but promised to keep himself up just for Arthur.

When he arrived at Arthur's house, he couldn't find it in his heart to wake him, so he did the next best thing. He grabbed the keys that were curled into Arthur's clenched fist and opened the front door. He then picked Arthur up, carried him carefully up the stairs and laid him on his bed. He was mindful, and made the least amount of noise possible to keep from waking up the Kirkland-Bonnefoy's.

Alfred smiled at his sleeping friend's – for lack of a better word – form. Arthur began shifting in his sleep and Alfred took it as the cue to leave, but not before placing a chaste kiss on Arthur's lips and leaving the unicorn in front of his bedroom door.

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**6 Feet**** = 182 cm  
5 feet 9 inches= 175 cm **


	7. Week Seven

**Guys! I finally updated this! haha did you think i was going to leave you guys hanging forever? haha... nooooo!  
It did take awhile to write this up, it's my longest piece for this fic (3,212 words w/o the AN)  
****Happy Mid-Story Chapter! This is around the time when you all start to hate me, *evil sinker*  
I must warn you, this chapter involves a lot of feels. Anyways! Enjoy, my cupcakes!**

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**Week Seven  
****(October 15, 2014)**

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A loud smack echoed throughout the lunchroom as Alfred's books slammed onto the table, catching the attention of the entire cafeteria. He took a deep breath, ignoring the eyes that fell on him, and plopped down into the plastic chair.

"Are you alright, Alfie?" Matthew asked, his violet eyes filled to the brim with worry. His brother was dramatic, yes, but this was definitely a first. From beside him, Francis cocked his head to the side and Berwald, one of Alfred's teammates, looked up.

"No." He replied with a pout as he laid his elbows on the table and cupped his chin with his hands.

"Aww. What is the matter, Alfred?" Tino asked as he poked at the bland, un-appealing cafeteria food.

Alfred groaned. "Why didn't you guys tell me that homecoming is next week?" Four sets of eyes, each stricken with disbelief, stared at him, intently. Matthew sighed, Francis rolled his eyes, Tino looked vaguely hurt, and Berwald's lips curved slightly downward. "What?" He asked with a pout.

Francis sighed, taking the irritating silence as his sign to speak up. "Mon ami, you should have known. Your homecoming game is next week, they've been advertising for the pep rally since school started, and tickets have been on sale for two weeks."

Alfred's eyes widened with realization and Berwald grunted. "Coach is mad. You have not been to practice in weeks."

Matthew raised his eyebrows, then narrowed them. "Alfred Foster Jones, what does he mean you haven't been to practice in weeks?"

Alfred shot an angry look at Berwald, who shrugged nonchalantly, and sighed as he ran his hands through his hair. There was no point in lying to Mattie now. "I've been skipping practice to spend time with Arthur in the afternoon." He admitted. A childlike smile spread upon Tino's lips and he leaned his head onto Berwald's shoulder - or rather, the closest he could get to it at his height.

Matthew, on the other hand, wasn't amused. "Alfred," he started, a sigh escaping his lips. "We need to talk, c'mon." He stood up from the table and his older step-brother followed right after him, his head hung low. He tried to keep his affair a secret, especially from his family, and know all he could muster was a guilty look to match his equally guilty conscience.

Matthew led them out of the noisy cafeteria and into the quiet, peaceful hallway. They stood in silence for a couple seconds before the Canadian raised an eyebrow and Alfred sighed.

"I understand that you have a lot going on right now, Alfred." Matthew began, his voice soft, caring, and welcoming. "I also know that as a family we have a lot going on too." He paused when he was met with Alfred's puzzled look. "Your mom is under a lot of stress right now, and so is my dad. These past few weeks have been hectic at home and you're rarely there to see it. We assume that you're at football practice and that you come home tired and ready to go to sleep and that's why you ignore us and head straight to your room..." Matthew choked back a sob, but couldn't help the tears that began to form, and wiped every single one away.

Alfred's eyes bulged and became glassy upon seeing his brother in such a frail state. He reached his hand out to comfort his brother, only to have it slapped away as Matthew recomposed himself. "Your mother has times where she cries because she hasn't properly seen her son in days, but when you walk through that door it's all smiles and sunshine."

"Wha-?" Alfred scanned Matthew for any sign of mockery, but when he found none, he swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep, shaky breath. "Why didn't she- you? Nobody. Why? _Why_ wait until now to tell me, Mattie?" Alfred's breathing now came out short, quick, and panicked. A million and one things raced around his head and he couldn't help but blame himself for every last bit of it.

"How? How was I supposed to tell you? Mom and dad think you're stressed to the max with maintaining your grades, your position on the team, and now Arthur. They told me not to tell you until football season was over, because it would be too much for you to handle. But now?" Matthew laughed. He was so stunned by his brother's sneaky actions to _laugh_ as he said it. "Now that Arthur seems to be the most important factor of your life, you might as well know what is going on at home."

Alfred's hands twitched at his sides and he attempted to keep a steady breathing pattern. "Matthew if you would've just told me earlier I would have-"

"You would've what? Quit the football team? Dropped out of high school? Gotten your head out of the clouds for once to see that everything is falling apart?" By now, Matthew had stopped wiping the tears away and let them cascade down his cheeks onto a puddle right by his shoe. "Just go back to Arthur, he seems to be the only one you care about nowadays." Matthew spluttered coldly as he turned on his heel. Alfred took a deep breath and grabbed him by the wrist. "Let go, Jones."

"No." Alfred croaked out. Matthew struggled against his grip, but when Alfred tightened it, he gave up trying. "Matthew. I'm sorry. I really am. I've been caught up with Arthur. Yes. I've been lying to you guys, I know. It's just too much to be home all the time. It hurts to see Arthur the way he is right now, but it hurts to see mom way more. Watching her grow weaker by the day doesn't help at all, I just want her to be well again. I want her to be laughing and smiling and singing like she used to." He cut himself off and bit his lip, not even caring that he was crying at this point. He took a deep breath. "She has been the only person that has been there for me my entire life and I can't bear to see her like that."

Matthew's eyebrows knitted together in a furious manor. "But you can bare to see some stuck up, pain in the ass, British kid like that, huh?"

"Don't act so innocent, Mattie. I see you with Francis all the time." He growled as he let go of his younger brother's hand.

Matthew chuckled darkly. "Yeah, but the difference is, I'm always home! Francis visits me, he comes with flowers and chocolates for _YOUR_ mom. She's not even _my_ mom and he does that for her! Heck, I bet she even sees _him_ more than she sees _you_!" Matthew's breath was heavy his body shook as he spoke. "What I would give to have my mother at my side, even if it meant I had to see her like this! It's easy to replace a father, Alfred but the bond, the chemical and emotional bond a son has with his mother is irreplaceable."

"It's not my fault!" Alfred yelled as his fist launched itself toward the cement walls. The loud boom echoed throughout the halls - and most likely inside the cafeteria as well - as Alfred broke down into a mess of choked sobs and painful regrets. He sat himself down and cried, letting every held back emotion flow through him. All the while, he repeated those four words, thinking that maybe, just maybe, if he said it enough times he would actually believe it.

"Well then whose fault is it?" Matthew muttered coldly as he walked into the cafeteria, leaving his older brother to wallow in his pool of self-pity.

* * *

**. . .**

* * *

Alfred didn't stick around afterwards. Once he recomposed himself to the point where he looked like a semi-decent human being - and not some psychotic mental patient on escape - he stood up, and began his walk out of the school. His brother had his car keys, and his phone was in his locker, and retrieving both of those included walking back into the cafeteria and confronting his brother; two things he didn't want to do.

So instead, he walked down the street with his hands stuffed into the depths of his pockets. The air was rather chilly for mid-October, especially in Florida, so Alfred found himself shivering as he continued down the sidewalk. The streets were rather empty, only a few cars drove by here and there, and Alfred couldn't help but reflect upon what happened. Matthew and he had never gotten in a fight before, ever. Hell, Alfred didn't even know that his brother could get mad; which only made the situation that much worse.

He had decided upon going home, but as he took in his surroundings he found himself around Arthur's neighborhood. He stopped in his tracks and exhaled deeply before turning around and walking the other way. He wasn't ready to go back there, just yet.

Alfred was home in less than ten minutes, a new record for him actually, and weakly knocked on the door. He cursed himself for leaving all his keys on the same lanyard, and dropped his gaze to the floor when his mother opened the door.

To say Amelia was shocked would've been an understatement. She hadn't been expecting her son to show up at eleven in the morning. Heck, she hadn't been expecting anyone that day. Yet, upon seeing the distraught look in her son's soulless blue eyes, she felt her heart shatter and ushered him in.

As soon as she took her sons hand, she hissed and let it fall back limply to his side. "Honey, you're freezing! Did you really walk all the way home? Where's your brother?" Alfred sighed and his mother nodded. "Sit down, sweetie. I'll make you some hot chocolate with extra marshmallows, just how you like it." He nodded and watched his mother retreat into the kitchen before sitting on the couch, bringing a pillow up to his face, and crying.

His mother cared too much for him. _Way_ too much. He didn't spend enough time with her, he didn't show his appreciation enough. Hell, he didn't even tell her that he loved her every day. What if one day he got home and she wasn't there? He didn't know how he'd react. He'd probably have a mental breakdown, one way worse than the one he was having at the moment.

He took short, shaky breaths as he tried to calm down his breathing and slow his racing thoughts, but as soon as his mother walked through the archway again, he burst into tears once more.

Amy nearly spilled the mugs on hot cocoa on herself when her son burst into tears. She was quick to put the mugs on the table and take a seat beside him, wrapping her arms around her big baby and nuzzling onto his arm. Alfred laughed as her blond hairs tickled him slightly and she giggled as well. Amy rubbed soothing circles onto his back as she calmed him down.

Once Amy was sure he was stable enough, she handed him the mug of hot chocolate and smiled. She wasn't going to rush him, knowing that last time she did she got nothing out of him. Instead, she stayed quiet and attentive for a few minutes before he began to talk.

"Mom. Are you- ...how are you?" Amy stared at her son for a second, completely baffled, but smiled.

"I'm fine, sweetie pie. How are-"

Alfred exhaled sharply. "Mom. Please don't lie to me. Tell me how you're feeling. Tell me what's on your mind. Tell me how your chemotherapies are going, just tell me anything you want to tell me."

Blue eyes scanned the teenage body and she sighed. "You know me too well, Alfred. I hate that about you." She lightly pushed his shoulder, and action which cause his lips to flicker upward for a fraction of a second. "I'll admit. I've been a bit stressed these past week weeks. I also stopped going to chemo's since last week and I'm not going back for a while."

Alfred's eyes lit up with hope and he engulfed his mom in a hug. "Does that mean you're doing better?"

"Ha-ha... _Actually_." She started nervously. Alfred ended the hug and held the elder at arm's length. "Whoa. Careful, bud."

"What do you mean '_actually_?'" Alfred asked, rather coldly.

Amelia chuckled lightly and caught sight of her pink carpeting. "_Actually._.." She began again and cleared her throat. "Um... They found out that I was pregnant so they cancelled all forms of chemotherapy in order to maintain a healthy pregnancy..." She raised her gaze from the floor and laughed nervously. "_Surprise_!"

Alfred sat frozen, unblinking, and without breathing. A million and one things raced through his head and only a few stuck out, and they were the dangers of the entire ordeal. When his mother reminded him to breathe, he took a deep breath and blinked rapidly. "Mom. Does Matt know?"

Now it was Amy's turn to freeze. Of course he knew, but that wasn't the problem. She had just informed her son of the addition of a new family member and what he asked was if the father knew? "Of course he does, sweetie pie." Alfred let out a breath of relief.

"They tried to get me to have an abortion..." She began, catching her son's attention once more. By now, his hands had dropped from her shoulders and were now intertwined with her fingers. She bit her bottom lip to keep the tears from forming. "Chemotherapy during pregnancy is detrimental to the baby, they told me it may even led to miscarriage." She swallowed the lump in her throat as she continued, it was the first time she repeated the information aloud - she was keeping it a secret from her husband - and it proved to be beyond heartbreaking, especially accompanied by the look emotional distress on her sons features.

"I told them that I didn't care. I have been trying to have a baby since Matt and I married, there was no way I am giving up this little miracle willingly." A small stream of tears flowed down her cheeks and Alfred was quick to wipe them away with his thumb. "They told me that they would try their hardest to save the baby, which is why they stopped the chemo's right away, but they told me they weren't too sure if the baby would make it."

"Is that why Matthew tells me you've been so stressed these past few weeks?" Amelia's eyes shot open, but she nodded. She didn't know that Matthew had told him about her behavior, but from the look of hurt that flashed through his eyes when Alfred said his name, she could only put two and two together.

"Did you guys have a fight?" She asked, her tone nurturing as she wiped away the last of her tears. She hated crying in front of Alfred. He nodded slightly and bit his lip.

"Mom. I have to tell you something." Amy's eyebrows furrowed but she urged him to go on. "I have been skipping football practice these past two weeks to spend time with Arthur."

"Is that it?" She asked with a giggle, her aura changing in an instant. Alfred knitted his eyebrows together, confused. "I mean, it's pretty obvious. Football only lasts until six and you get home around eight every day. Plus, you never come home sweaty, you come home smelling..._ British_. And you never used to come home happy from practice, now you come home with the biggest smile plastered on your face."

"But Matthew said-"

Amy pursed her lips. "Are you dense, Alfie? I _JUST_ told you that he doesn't know about the pregnancy. I tell him it's about you so he doesn't question it. I don't want him to know just yet. I'll probably tell him tonight. Not everything, just the pregnancy part."

Alfred crossed his arms over his chest and frowned childishly. "He made me feel terrible, mom!"

Amy chuckled, glad to have her boy back to normal. "That's your fault for believing him. I know you're infatuated with that British boy, so I would never penalize you for it. You know that when we have a problem, I always talk to you about it. Besides, I don't blame you, his accent is divine."

"Thanks, mom." He muttered as his gaze dropped to the floor.

"Can I ask you a personal question, Alfie?" She pleaded as she batted her thick blonde eyelashes. Alfred raised an eyebrow, but nodded. "Have you guys had sex yet? Did you top? You better have topped, you're like ten feet taller than him, and it's only fair."

Alfred's eyes shot to the size of saucers and he choked on his spit. His face glowed a bright red and Amy couldn't help by laugh at how embarrassed and uncomfortable her son became. Knowing that she could tease him a bit farther, she continued. "Well then again, you are more of a bottom, with him at least. He seems like the more aggressive of you two."

"MOM!" Alfred shouted, his cheeks permanently tinted red. Amy broke out into another fit of laughter as he hid his face behind his hands. "No we haven't. We haven't even kissed yet... Well I kissed him, but he was sleeping."

"Alfie. You're a creep." She joked.

"You're the one asking all this stuff! Aren't you a little too old to know these things?" He was offended by the comment, even if it was slightly true.

Amy shrugged. "Blame our neighbor, Mrs. Edelstein. She's over here all the time with stories about her friends. You can learn a lot of things from that women." She cringed at a bad memory and chuckled at the look of utter confusion on her son's face.

Later that afternoon, Matthew came home with all of Alfred's things in hand. He apologized for his comments and the two brothers made up. Alfred texted Arthur the good news, but told him that he would visit him sometime during the week, to which the Briton had no problem. When Alfred's mother told Matthew of the pregnancy, the Canadian was ecstatic and when Matt came home from work, the family enjoyed a family meal, courtesy of the teenage boys.

During dinner they discussed things such as what the baby was going to be named, where it was going to sleep, and how it would be raised. Amelia did an excellent job of hiding the bit of extra information from everyone else. They also congratulated Matthew on getting asked to homecoming by Francis. Soon after, they brainstormed ideas for how Alfred should ask Arthur, and since skydiving onto Arthur's house seemed to be a bad idea, Alfred had to go with something a bit simpler.

After dinner, the four of them bonded over the movie The Avengers - which was undoubtedly chosen by Alfred. When it was time for bed, they each said their good-nights and for the first time, in a long time, Alfred had a good night's rest.


End file.
